Elaeria
by Anasatsia98
Summary: She had left him without a word, she had arrived in the company of enemies, and she was going to give her life for fools. Their relationship was broken for she was the lost queen and he was the expected king. (follows throughout The Hobbit to The Lord of the Rings series)


Oh, if only her parents could see her now.

Hidden amongst the shadows, bow drawn at her own kind, siding with the 'enemy'—they would not be happy… well, her _Ada_ would most likely be the most displeased, but her _Naneth_ would've found the situation most mirthful, despite her 'betrayal' to their dear friends.

But what did they expect?

Her people were known wanderers. They weren't used to staying in one place for hundreds of years. She wasn't unaware of the sharp glances that had been directed towards her throughout the years. The hesitation, the fear, she wasn't blind to the emotions that twinkled in the guards eyes each time she left, saying that she was going for a walk; nor was she unaware of the caution and the worry that seemed to way itself on her dearest friends shoulders when she accompanied them outside the gates. The restlessness that had seemed to follow her never seemed to disappear and, though it was common for her people, the others seemed to find her constant fidgety state a concern.

It bothered her that they all thought that she would leave them… leave them without a goodbye. By now, in her opinion, they must've known that she would never do that. That it wasn't like her to do that. Although her people were wanderers, they planned each journey—planned the days they were going to leave and how long they would be gone. Surely, if she were going to leave, the oddness of her reading the books and scrolls that rested in the library, or her study, would have alerted them.

It was a shame that she didn't have time to plan.

Or have time to say goodbye.

Gandalf had come to her in the earliest of mornings, when the sun barely kissed the sky and Mirkwood was silent. Sometimes, late at night, ever pressing waves of guilt would break the dam she built around her conscious. Silent, she would gaze at the moon, listening to the rustling of leaves and the rumble of dwarven snores. Her mind would fight itself, the battle loud and long, though the sound never escaped. She argued that they must have known that she were to leave at some point and, that that the arrival of the wizard, would've been the catalyst to her never-ending restlessness. Her king and prince, after all, had not been unaware of the grey wizard's arrival—both watching the guards escort him to her room.

Gandalf's words had held her hesitant. Her body craved to say yes, to leave the dark forest of Mirkwood and travel the mountains and land that surrounded her. To see men, dwarfs, hobbits, maybe an orc. Her prince rarely ever allowed her to see such beasts. Her hesitance had not lasted long and, by the time the sun rested above the trees, she had her answer.

"Look out!" She heard a young—well, young for a dwarf, that is—voice call and she twirled around, the silver blade hidden in her sleeve sliding out, gliding through the air before lodging itself into the hairy beast's leg. It reared back with a sharp scream (one that pierced her delicate ears and almost caused her to wince), bearing its disgusting pinchers, and she drew the dagger she kept at her side defensively.

She had forgotten how much the pests refused to die.

She felt the arrow brush past her cheek, almost nicking her porcelain skin, before finding its home in the underbelly of the spider. She didn't lower her guard at the spider's ear-shattering scream, however; nor did she relax as the pest fell onto its back, legs curling in. Instead, she stalked towards the beast that had ruined the beauty of her once luscious forest and stood in front of it. She glanced at it, her mind racing at how big they had become—and how bold—before plunging her dagger into its skull.

She wasn't sure how much had changed since she left. She wasn't going to tempt fate with the belief that such a powerful creature fell so easily.

The black blood blended into the forest floor, she noted as she wiped the dagger on dead leaves and dried grass. If the carcass of the spider hadn't been there, it would have appeared that nothing had ever happened—there was no stain of battle.

The familiar grasp of pain, guilt, and shame—the one that she had grown so accustomed to after killing any living creature—brushed past her. It was as if she had never left and she furrowed her brows as she stalked away from the fresh carcass, not bothering to spare it a second glance. Her king had once told her—her new king, that is—when she was a child that she was too weak to ever truly become a Queen. That her sympathy would be her downfall and that her inability to kill another creature without regret would cause her kingdom to collapse.

She would be the reason of her peoples' deaths.

His words past had passed unheard through her ears. She didn't care to kill, she didn't care to prove him wrong. She was different than him—her people were different.

He never seemed to understand that.

But her prince did.

Her prince tried to understand when they were younger, when his mind had yet to be corrupted by her father's. He had once told her that if she were to ever leave, than he would—

No, now wasn't the time for her thoughts to wander.

A lower voice, one that she knew no elf could ever reach, for it was too harsh… to rough, yelled out and she clenched her jaw in irritation. Thorin Oakenshield and her hand never seen eye to eye (no that wasn't a height joke), and she wasn't unaware of the prejudice he held towards her kin. She had seen it in his eyes when she had first joined their quest, his eyes holding the hate and disgust as it raked over her figure. She had heard it in his voice when they arrived in Imaldris. It surrounded her every step of their journey. The foolishness and carelessness of his shout, especially after they had been attacked, pushed her further on edge and her ears twitched at every sound.

Had he truly thought that spiders were their only concern?

If so, than he was not a king she would trust with her life.

Nevertheless, she kept her mouth shut. A sarcastic comment from her was going to get her laughs from Kili, Fili, Nori, Ori, and Bofur, but gain her nothing in Thorin's eyes.

Tucking her dagger in her belt, she watched as the dwarves huddled, their hesitance about what to do next clear. She waited, preferring to stay towards the back of the group, and busied herself with pulling her bow off her body and notching an arrow. If she were going to protect the group from the back, she needed a long range weapon. Her ears twitched and she drew back slightly, the bow slightly bending at the pressure. A spider, a young one for it was incredibly foolish to think it could sneak up on a company with an elf, crept from the shadows and faced Kili. The arrow pierced the through the head of the beast, only a ghost of a breath leaving it before it fell on its back.

She almost rolled her eyes at Thorin's glare and Kili's look of offense.

"I'll let you get the next one," She promised the young dwarf, and Kili's eyes seemed to glow with happiness at finally being able to prove his worth. But what worth could he prove while trying to fend off monsters he could barely hear? The spider had been dead before he had the chance to ever think about drawing his bow.

A rustle from behind her caught her attention, her hand already notching another arrow without her truly having to think about the action. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the offending area. Something felt off… something felt very different. While the spiders' rustles had been harsh, these ones were soft and careful—almost delicate. She glance away and reached behind her, pulling the heavy, green fabric over her head. The hood blended in with its surroundings, the cloak being a gift from her mother's friend. Tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ears, she made sure that her face was covered. It would not end well for either her or the dwarves if she were to be spotted among them.

Drawing her hand away from her ears, she grasped the arrow once more and stood alert. Her eyes focused on the spider that had foolishly landed in front of Thorin and she left out a soft breath, her fingers releasing the thick string—and she stumbled. A soft cry escaped her lips as her lithe body was plowed by Nori, the heavy dwarf not even realizing what he had done, too busy fighting another spider. Steadying herself, her misty eyes sot towards the green-feathered arrow that laid mere centimeters away from the beast. Thorin didn't even bother glaring at her, too busy cockily twirling his sword as the sider reared back on its two hind legs. Another rustle from behind her caught her attention and she twirled around, arrow notched and bow drawn. Her body stood between the sound and Nori and Kili, ready to protect them without a moment's thought. Her arrow rested between the cerulean eyes of an elf, as his did to her. She could almost feel the chill of the arrow tip against her forehead; yet, she did not react.

She was as cold and emotionless as her king.

Oh, he would be so proud if he saw her now.

"No not think I won't kill you, dwarf," The shiver ran down her spine before she could stop it. How long had it been since she heard his voice? Months? Maybe even a year? It had not changed, carrying the same mixture of ruthlessness and gentleness it always had. She had never been on the receiving end of the cruelty his voice held, however, and she would have been shocked had it not been for her company. Still, it reminded her of the anger that was yet to come out of the situation, "It would be my pleasure."

She adjusted her grip slightly on her bow and cocked an eyebrow at the elf in front of her, daring him to come closer or to let the arrow go. She knew that he would do neither. From the moment his blue eyes, they reminded her of the stream that ran through Imladris, had locked onto her grey ones—that looked like the sky on a stormy day—she knew that she had won. She almost laughed, if only there was a way for her to cover her eyes as there was for her to cover her hair and face, her life would be so much easier.

Her eyes did not stray far from his as she heard the numerous footsteps approach them. In fact, she was rather enjoying the sharp glare he was giving her. It wasn't often that Arthion got annoyed or showed emotion, and she couldn't help but feel smug when she managed to get a rise out of him.

"Kili!" Fili's voice rang throughout the silent forest, and she used this momentary distraction to lunge to her left. Arthion was quick to follow her movement, however, and her eyes darkened when he drew his arm further back.

She often forgot that they had grown up together and that he knew all her tricks.

"We both know that you're not going to do anything." She taunted, a sly smirk playing on her lips as her grip on the bow lessened. She expected Arthion to followed and her brows furrowed for a second when he remained tense.

"Search them," She heard Legolas command, and the elf-maiden glanced back, rolling her eyes as he strutted throughout the group of dwarves, stopping at Gloin. Arthion finally lowered his bow and expectantly held out his hand. She glanced at it, raising her brows, before handing him her bow, sword, and dagger. When his hand remained outstretched, she wrinkled her nose in confusion and looked at him.

_"I know you have more_," Arthion stated, and she rolled her eyes, her hand reaching into her pocket before giving him the two daggers that rested there, as well as the one that was hidden in her sleeve and the other that was tucked in her boot. Collecting them, he looked at her boredly, his light blue eyes blank of emotion, and she gave him a tight smile. She knew what he was looking for.

"_It's keeping my hair back,_" She murmured, hoping that he'd let her keep her identity hidden, "_Please, Arthion."_

"_As much as I would love to, you know the rules_." She couldn't stop the gasp that escaped her lips as she felt her hood being violently—yet gently— pulled back. Auburn waves tumbled down, landing flawlessly against her back and hanging there limply. Arthion had already managed to pull the clip from her hair and clenched it tightly in his hands. Although his grip was tight, she knew that it wasn't tight enough to damage the clip.

He didn't want to deal with Legolas any more than he already had.

"_Elaeria" _Arthion whispered, and her eyes widened at the use of her full name. How long had it been since someone had called her Elaeria? Without a second thought, she turned to glance at the blonde leader to see of he had heard him. She wasn't surprised to see Arthion doing the same, "_He has not been in a good mood since you left and I don't know how he'll react now that you're back…and with dwarves."_

_"I could not deny Gandalf for help,"_ Elaeria muttered softly, pulling a strand of her waist-length hair over her shoulder and fidgeting with the ends, noting how split and dead it was. "_And I did not mean to hurt him."_

But she knew it would.

_"But you did,"_ Arthion stressed, his hand coming to grip hers tightly, and C looked towards the blonde elf, biting her lower lip as she felt the familiar wave of remorse and regret flood through her body.

She refused to comment, her heart turning with thought of causing Legolas pain in her absence.. Though she knew that it would hurt him, she thought that he would've been able to brush it off. She wasn't like Legolas, he _had _to have known that one day she was going to leave. He knew that, his father knew that, her friends knew that. The fact that she had managed to stay in one place for as long as she did was outstanding among her people. But, Elaeria was naïve in that sense. She didn't always understand the full powers of emotions, even though they affected her every action.

"_This is an ancient Elvish blade_," She heard Legolas murmured, and she glanced at him, adoration filling her eyes as she watched him studied the sword in his hands. How long had it been since she had seen him? She was not ignorant of the hatred that slowly began to fill his icy blue eyes, "_Forged by my kin_. Where did you get this?"

Icy blue, Elaeria felt sick for a moment. Her stomach leapt into her chest as the similarities between the prince's and the king's eyes became one. His eyes had been a beautiful blue when she left. The darkness reminding her of the sea on an overcast day. A dark, beautiful blue.

She had loved his eyes.

"It was given to me," Thorin said, his blue eyes refusing to look away from the Prince's.

Elaeria bit her lip and looked away. It was in moments such as these that she truly remembered how similar the hatred between the elves and dwarves was. Though Legolas's and Thorin's eyes were different, the loathing they held was the same.

"Not just a thief, but a liar as well," Legolas said, and Elaeria felt her heart leap when Legolas pointed the sword to Thorin's throat. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins and blood rushed through her ears, blocking most of the sound, as she stared at the two nobles.

There was no way that Elaeria was going to let Legolas hurt Thorin. She had traveled too far and protected the King far too many times to let a foolish encounter, such as this one, ruin their chance of getting to the mountain. And, as much as Elaeria wanted to remain hidden in the shadows, she knew that she was needed now more than ever. That this could be the reason why she was truly on the quest.

"_Meleth nín_," The name of affection left her lips without a second thought and Elaeria smiled softly, wincing when his icy eyes met hers. She watched, heart dropping in her chest as they briefly flickered with confusion and hurt—the confusion hurting her the most—before returning to their cold state, "Please."

He turned from her andElaeria felt her heart drop even further in her chest as he demanded they be brought to the King. For the first time since she left, Elaeria wondered how much grief she had caused Legolas… how much agony he was holding in his heart. As the small group started forward, Elaeria moved to join them but froze when a hand grabbed her wrist. She didn't flinch, the grip was not tight enough to cause her pain; rather, it was to ensure that she couldn't escape.

A grip that she had once held herself and that she was all too familiar with. The one that was given when the person feared you'd leave them again, or you'd just disappear if they turned away.

"_Elaeria,_" Legolas's smooth voice flooded Elaeria's ears and she faltered for a moment, her stomach filling with dread as her heart dropped further in her chest. "_We have a lot to discuss_."

Taking a deep breath, steadying herself,Elaeria turned to face the young elf. Her heart ached as she stared at his face. He seemed so much older, his eyes cold and filled with anger. He was not this way when she left and, for the first time, she wondered if her departure caused the anger that consumed the prince, "_As you wish, My Prince."_

~8~

_Elaeria__ clung to her father's hand as he led her through the halls of Mirkwood, her eyes wide with wonder as she examined her new home._

_"Ada, why must I stay?" __Elaeria__ asked, her wide, doe-like grey eyes staring up at her father with curiosity and a hint of fear. Her father, Tirithon, smiled warmly at her and gave her hand a squeeze._

_"You must explore the cultures around you if you are to be queen one day," Her father explained and __Elaeria__ nodded, "You will spend a few years here to learn the ways of the Sindarin elves before you move on."_

_"But Ada," __Elaeria__ nervously played with the ends of her hair, "Why Sindarin?"_

_"Why not Sindarin?"Tirithon challenged, his voice holding a low warning as they approached the King. Right before they entered the throne room, Tirithon stopped his daughter and grabbed her gently by the shoulders before crouching to her height, "It is not to be known that you are a descendant of Fingon. You must keep it a secret, my dear."_

_When __Elaeria__ opened her mouth, Tirithon calmly raised his hand to stop her, "It is not safe for your lineage to be known. When I return, I hope it will be time for you to be Queen but, until then, you are to be a Lady."_

_Elaeria__ nodded and her father gave her a soft, sad smile before grabbing her hand as the throne room doors opened. __Elaeria__ swallowed, trying to push down the anxiety that clawed at her throat as she felt the King's cold stare turn to her._


End file.
